


Cannons From Canoes

by SpicyReyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 'again' screams the evil witch hexing my brain, 'we write a time travel again!!!', Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen, M/M, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2019-09-30 15:04:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17226251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyReyes/pseuds/SpicyReyes
Summary: A bloodied and broken Draco Malfoy is brought before the Ministry of Magic, clinging to an artifact of unknown power and origins.Harry Potter, quite predictably, manages to make things worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhh so i read the harry potter books finally??? bc i had only ever watched like the first 4 movies?? and its almost 2019 so like...what was i doing  
> anyways i also read up on the Cursed Content and found out about Nott making an unlimited Time Turner and was like. well this is wonderful fuel for The Only Kind Of Fic I Ever Write  
> y'all are probably so sick of my shit by now lmao im so sorry  
> a couple things! this is 2 years after canon in a sort of hand crafted au where harry just started work as an auror, ginny broke up with him to focus on trying to develop an identity via wordly travels, draco is a hermit hiding in his familys manor and hissing at the sunlight, and nothing else really matters because theyre only in 2000 for the first half of this chapter and the rest of the story is in the past B)  
> I'm also really bad at remembering shit correctly so if I fuck up something in canon along the way let's just roll with it and pretend it was intentional lmao  
> lastly. title is from "I Don't Know Why I Like You But I Do" by the Wombats

The Ministry of Magic was buzzing with an excited yet anxious energy, wizards and councilmen and Aurors all darting by Harry on their way to whatever it was they had been ordered to return to. And Harry knew they were _returning,_ not simply _going,_ because when he reached it, a large crowd was still gathered in front of the Time Room.

He reached out, catching the sleeve of a passing Auror, one of the few whose name he’d learned in his short time working there. “Stilwater,” Harry called to him. “What’s going on?”

“They’ve brought someone in,” Stilwater told him.

“Into the _Time_ Room?”

Stilwater’s eyes were wide, and his grin spread to match it, jerking a quick nod. “They won’t say who it is, or what’s going on, but the rumor is they caught someone with an illegal Time-Turner.”

“An _illegal-..?_ ” Harry shook his head, confused. “How is it illegal?”

“They won’t say,” the other Auror repeated. “That’s why everyone’s so nervous. If it were just because it wasn’t made by the Ministry, surely they’d have said, right?”

Harry frowned, looking toward the crowd.

“Look, Potter,” Stilwater said. “They love you in the Ministry. If anyone could find out what’s going on, it’s you, innit?”

He had a point, loathe as Harry was to admit it. He removed his hand from Stilwater’s robes, leaving him to return to his business, and went about weaving through the crowd on his way to the Time Room.

“Auror Potter!” someone called as he approached, and the crowd around the speaker parted to make way for him. Finally able to breathe without feeling suffocated by those packed close together in the hall, Harry relaxed a bit, but kept his eyes on the firmly shut Time Room door, just to be safe.

“Minister Shacklebolt?” Harry answered, bewildered at the presence of their Minister of Magic in a hall outside the first or tenth floors. “What is happening? I was told-...”

“Yes, yes, you are late,” an unknown wizard next to Kingsley said, opening the door of the Time Room and ushering them inside.

Kingsley turned and went into it without hesitation, and as the stranger did not stop gesturing toward the inside, Harry assumed he was to follow. As soon as he was fully through the door, the other wizard ducked inside, shutting the door firmly behind them and starting about setting a number of security charms on it.

Harry only had a moment to wonder at the security before he turned around, looking over the number of high-level Ministry employees gathered there, eyes tracing over each of the walls until they centered on the spectacle in the middle of the room.

His breath caught, as a haggard, exhausted, beaten-looking Draco Malfoy was hunched over there, hands grasped tightly around an object Harry couldn’t see - presumably the illegal Time-Turner.

The idea of a former Death-Eater with a time travelling device...no wonder everyone was so high strung.

“Draco Malfoy,” one of the Ministry wizards said, walking to stand in front of the crumpled form of the man. “You are accused of holding onto a magical object which defies the laws the Ministry of Magic have set in place for time charms. What say you in your defense?”

There was a long moment of silence.

Harry shifted, trying to get a better look. As he watched, Draco raised his head slightly, most of his face hidden from view by wild, matted blonde hair hanging down, but Harry could see his jaw work as he presumably made to respond.

Drops of blood escaped from beyond that curtain of hair, and Harry was faced with the horrified realization that it must have come from Draco’s mouth when it opened. How badly was he injured, in that case? What had been done to him?

What had he done to earn this?

“This,” Draco rasped, voice rough and echoing in the small room. “This is not a _trial._ You don’t…”

A pause, and then the sound of a spit, flecks of blood joining their brethren on the ground.

“You don’t care what I have to say,” Draco breathed out, head finally tipping back to show his face.

He looked awful. His skin was bleached beyond even his usual pallor, looking like stretched tissue paper that was moments from tearing. An ugly purple bruise covered one cheekbone, which bled up into his temple, where a deep and uneven cut gave Harry the uncomfortable impression that he’d been struck with something heavy. His jaw sat slightly askew, his nose looked crushed, and blood marred his teeth as he scowled at the room.

His hands, Harry realized, were shaking, knuckles blanched where he clutched them together.

What had happened to him? How badly had his arrest gone?

As much as Harry hated to agree, Draco’s words made sense - if they had already done _this,_ they were unlikely to be interested in hearing a defense.

“Humor us,” the wizard said, in a tone that could almost be considered a _jeer,_ bringing a frown to Harry’s face. “What have you got?”

Draco simply glared up in response.

“No?” the wizard shook his head, turning to address the room. “Mister Malfoy, here, possesses a Time-Turner, specifically crafted and enchanted to allow travel freely in time, without the restrictions of a five hour limit.”

The gathered Ministry employees were professionals, and so the room did not erupt in whispers or gasps, but the sharp inhales of those against the walls was just as damning.

Harry looked to Draco, expecting some of the outrage and stubborn self-righteousness he’d seen any time the boy was punished in school.

There were traces of it there, in his harsh and angry expression, but something else, too. Deep in his eyes - a peace, an acceptance.

He was not upset that he had been caught? Was it possible his only anger was in the treatment he had received, and that he recognized the validity of the charges against him?

Was something else going on here?

His hands were shifting, back and forth, worrying over themselves, trying to wring together without revealing the object within.

What was Malfoy up to?

“Where did you get this Time Turner?” another of the wizards present asked. “Did you make it?”

Silence met his question, and when Harry looked, Draco’s eyes had slid shut. He was no longer paying them any attention, his mouth moving slightly as he muttered to himself.

Draco was capable of wandless and silent magic, Harry knew, and so he tensed, watching for any familiar shapes of spells on his lips.

He saw no curses or jinxes or protective spells, though. The few shapes he could see clearly…

They looked like _numbers._

“He’s counting,” Harry realized out loud. Draco must have heard him, because his eyes snapped open, and his hands began moving faster. Acting on instinct, Harry rushed forward, hands darting out to grab Draco’s shoulders, trying to stop him.

Instead, the second his hands made contact, he felt the world warp around them, as the Time Turner worked its magic.

While the universe warped around them, Draco shouted an unfamiliar spell, and reached out to grab Harry in return. A moment later, they dropped from the sky, their landing softened slightly by mounds of snow, shocking Harry with its chill as they made contact.

He had the briefest second to be stunned by the wet and cold now surrounding him before he had to react, as to his side, Malfoy was scrambling to his feet, digging about in the snow around him.

“What are you doing?” Harry yelled to him, pushing himself out of the snow he’d been buried in to dive for Malfoy, wrestling the other man to the ground. Somehow, he managed to pin him, pressing his face down into the slush of partly melted snow that had previously served as their landing pad. “Where are we?” He demanded. _“When_ are we?”

“Too late!” Malfoy spat back, nonsensically. “You bastard, Potter, I wasn’t even halfway!”

“Halfway to _what?”_ Harry shot back. “What were you trying to do?”   
Draco’s face twisted, pressing up against Harry’s hold so that he could glare up at his captor. “I was going to kill him.”

Harry froze. “Kill who?”

“Voldemort.”

Harry blinked. “You…”

Malfoy took advantage of his shock to knock Harry loose, pushing himself back to his knees and beginning to seek around in the snow blindly with his hands. “Where is it?” he muttered as he dug. “Where the bloody hell did it go?”

“You can’t!” Harry yelled, reaching out to grab Malfoy again, but the man must have finally released enough adrenaline in his system to counter his heavy injuries, because he pulled his arm free without struggle. “Unrestricted time travel - you’ll create a disaster!”

“I’ll create an alternate universe,” Malfoy spat back. “One where my family isn’t cursed and haunted by the choices of my father.”

“So, what?” Harry snapped. “You go back to Hogwarts in the 40s and you kill a child? Or perhaps you face an older, more experienced wizard, and hope you were lucky enough to destroy him and all his horcruxes before anyone suffered for your actions?”

Draco’s hands stilled in their search, eyes raising up to meet Harry’s.

Harry thought, for a moment, that he’d gotten through to him, and that the horror on his face was him realizing how monumentally stupid his own plan was.

Instead, a moment later, his hand rose from the snow, presenting to Harry with a shaky hand the broken pieces of a Time Turner.

“No,” Harry breathed. “No, no, no, there’s no limit! If there’s no limit, how do we go back?”

Draco was staring at his own palm, seemingly looking _through_ it in his shocked state.

Harry didn’t need an answer out loud to understand what that look meant: they _didn’t_ go back. Draco Malfoy had successfully created a one-way path for them, dropping them in some unknown time.

“Malfoy,” Harry breathed out. “What have you done?”

Eyes still locked on his palm, Draco murmured, “The Forbidden Forest.”

“What?”

“That’s where I sent us,” Draco said. “Look around you.”

Harry did as told, but could not recognize the area where they were. It appeared to be a clearing, trees extending out from its edges in every direction. In the center, there was a frozen pond, under the surface of which he could see colorful fish darting about, unhindered by the ice above them.

“Well, that’s one mystery,” Harry muttered. Then, louder, he asked, “How long will it take you to fix that?”

Silence.

Harry looked behind him to see Draco looking sick.

“I can’t,” he said, weakly. “I didn’t make it.”

“What?” Harry shook his head, frustrated with this new added obstacle. “Who made it?”

“Nott,” Draco said. “My father hired him to make it so that he could change the course of the war to end in his favor. I stole it to do the opposite.”

Harry stared. “...You stole it,” he echoed, voice hollow. “You don’t know how it was made? Not at all?”

“No,” Draco confirmed.

“At least it can’t be that far,” Harry said, sitting back on his heels, dragging his soaked robes around him to try and block out some of the chill, which was a bit like trying to stop rain with a fountain. “One hour per turn - we’re probably a few days back, right? We can nick the working one off your past self when he’s brought in.”

Draco grimaced.

“Oh, don’t make that face,” Harry breathed out, helplessly. “What now?”

Draco lifted the broken Time-Turner again. Now, Harry could see that it was different from a usual one, featuring three different sized loops within an orb.

“Hours is the center,” Draco said, and Harry’s heart sunk before he even managed anything else, already knowing where it was going. “The middle is days. The outer ring-..”  
“Years,” Harry filled in. At Draco’s solemn nod, he demanded, “How many? How many turns did you manage?”

Draco raised his eyes to Harry’s, and answered in the harshest, most injured of whispers. “Fifteen.”

Fifteen years back from 2000 - they were in 1985.

Harry was _five._

“Malfoy,” Harry asked again. “What have you _done?”_


	2. Chapter 2

A harsh crunch to their side drew Harry and Draco’s attention.

“...The Forbidden Forest,” Harry mutured, incredulous. “Why pick  _ that  _ as your destination? Do you know how many things live in this forest?”

More crunching sounded as Harry stepped backward quickly, crouching down next to Draco. 

“How hurt are you?” he asked in a harsh whisper. “Can you walk? We need to move before-...”

“Shut up, Potter,” Draco hissed back. He was shivering in the cold now, and when he spoke, another drop of blood escaped his lips and flung itself into the clean white snow around them, joining the stains they’d already made from digging the ground up underneath it in their search. 

He made a sorry sight. Harry wanted to do something, but this was far beyond an  _ episkey,  _ and he wasn’t really up to any other healing spells. Defensive magic was his specialty - he could keep someone from getting injured a lot easier than he could tend to someone who already was. 

“You need a healer,” Harry whispered, shooting a look in the direction the noises had been  coming from, watching nervously for movement, before looking back to Malfoy. “But we need to get away from here before someone sees us. We’re already breaking laws just being here-...”

“Who’s there?” 

Harry stiffened, looking up, as a familiar towering figure emerged from the trees. Hagrid froze as his eyes landed on them, grip tightening on his crossbow. 

He watched as his old friend’s eyes widened, locking onto his face. 

“...James?” Hagrid breathed. “James Potter?”

“No,” Harry said quickly. “I’m not, I’m-...” The words stuck in his throat.

“His brother,” came a harsh, ragged voice behind him, and Harry looked down at Draco in disbelief. “Harry Potter.”

_ “Harry?” _ Hagrid echoed. “But-...he’s only a baby, ain’t he?”

“ _ Brother _ , not  _ son _ ,” Draco spat. “Honestly, you great-...!”

Draco shouted as Harry shoved him sideways, knocking him over. Harry braced himself for retaliation immediately, but none came, Draco simply letting out a low whine as he lay in the snow. The ground around him was slowly pinking, the harsh movement apparently having broken whatever was stemming the flow of blood out of some hidden wound. 

“Shit,” Harry swore, standing quickly. “Shit, shit, Draco you absolute-...” He cut himself off, looking up to Hagrid. 

He was going to have to obliviate Hagrid, wasn’t he? 

Well, in for a sickle, he supposed.

“Hagrid,” he said, watching the man’s spine snap straight in response. “Draco’s-..he’s hurt very badly. Is there some way you can get someone to help him?”

“We can take him to the hospital wing,” Hagrid suggested, hesitantly. “I’ll get Professor Dumbledore-...”

“No!” Harry shouted before he could help it, watching Hagrid blink down at him. “I...I mean...We’re really not meant to be here.”

Hagrid’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah? Why’s that, then?” 

Harry had no explanation that didn’t incriminate them further.

Dumbledore, though…  Harry hadn’t seen the man in years, and if anyone could figure out how to fix this, it was him. 

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay, get Dumbledore. ...Quickly, please. I think he’s bleeding internally, he keeps spitting up blood.”

Hagrid took a step back, clearly torn. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Harry asked, hesitantly. It was better no one saw them, but he couldn’t expect Hagrid to just trust them to stay in the woods while he left. 

Hagrid’s internal debate was evident on his face, so Harry simply sighed, moving to stand.

Draco shifted, staring up at Harry as though  _ he’d  _ been the one who beat the shit out of him. Which, considering he was why Draco was bleeding currently, was actually fair. 

“You started this,” Harry reminded him, taking his wand out. Ignoring both his and Hagrid’s stiffening, he pointed his wand at Draco, breathing out, “Habitus Corporis.” 

Draco froze in place, going perfectly still. The red around him stopped spreading, and he slumped under his own weight.  

“What did ya-...”

“Stasis spell,” Harry said. “He’ll have my head for it, I’m sure, but I can’t trust him not to run off or die if I leave him here.”  

And he couldn’t trust him not to talk if he carried him with them conscious, considering he’d needed about fourteen seconds to spout off some shit about Harry being his dad’s  _ brother _ . He  would definitely need to do a memory charm - if Hagrid had suspected Harry had an uncle by blood, there was no way he’d let that go. 

Harry levitated Draco’s body up into the air, trying very desperately not to think how much his pale skin and limp form made him look dead, and started off toward the castle.

Hagrid caught up to him in two long strides, walking ahead of him. “You’re who Harry’s named after, then?” 

Harry gave a noncommittal hum in response. He was not giving himself any more details to have to hunt down in Hagrid’s head later.

“I can’t believe it,” Hagrid continued, not seeming bothered by the lack of conversation. “James Potter, have a brother? How come I never heard’a ya?”

“Went to Beauxbatons,” Harry muttered, focusing most of his attention on keeping Draco well out of the snow. 

Unfortunately, the sarcasm in his tone seemed to have done a wide arc in order to smoothly sail  right over Hagrid’s head. “Oh! Heard good things ‘bout that school. Supposed to be one of the best, right up there with Durmstrang. Nothin’ on Hogwarts, o’course- ah, no offense.”

“Non taken,” Harry said. His eyes were locked on a thin line of crusted dried blood under Draco’s lip, and he walked a little faster as the panic slowly built in him. 

“How’d you know my name, anyhow?” 

“Assumption,” Harry dismissed. “How many half-giant gamekeepers can one school have?” 

He cursed himself immediately when Hagrid froze, turning stunned eyes on him.

He could practically hear  Draco mocking him.  _ Nice going, Potter, maybe next you should reveal you know his parents’ names, too.  _

If felt a bit wrong being irritated with an imagined form of Draco, when the real one was barely breathing beside him, but he couldn’t really help it.

The castle doors were finally in sight, though, and so Harry sped towards them, listening to Hagrid’s heavy footsteps as he caught back up. 

“You know about-...”

“Hagrid, I’m sorry,” Harry said, looking up at him, “but I really need to get Draco somewhere safe  before I explain anything, okay? I promise I’m going to tell Dumbledore everything, I just need to make sure he,” he jerked his head toward Malfoy, “doesn’t die, first.”

“Oh, ‘course,” Hagrid said, hurrying to open the door for Harry. Once they were through the entrance hall, Harry breathing a little easier without the harsh winter air, Hagrid spoke again. “What happened to him?”

“Excessive force,” Harry muttered. “Old prejudices haven’t gotten any better, and he made himself a target to people that have been wanting him dead for years anyway. Gave them an excuse to act.”

There was a long silence as they weaved through the ways to Dumbledore’s office.

“...He muggleborn?”

Harry snorted. He half wished Draco had been awake to hear that, but figured it was probably in Hagrid’s best interest that he hadn’t. “Pureblood, actually, and a prick about it. He’s just...well, he’s messed up a lot. Made a lot of enemies. Some of them are slower to forgive than others.” 

He should have been there when Draco was arrested. Harry hated using his influence for anything, good or bad, but he’d have thrown the full weight of his name into assuring that Draco was taken in peacefully. He had good intentions, if they were  _ stupid,  _ and there was no need to beat him to death’s door over a  _ time turner.  _

Unless, of course, Malfoy had refused to go down without a fight. That seemed like the sort of monumentally awful choice that Draco would make. 

“Not sure I wanna know what sorts of ‘messing up’ gets you beat that bloody, I'll be honest.”

Continuing to talk was a bad idea, but Harry found himself speaking again anyway, justifying it to himself with the knowledge that he was going to obliviate Hagrid anyway. “He was a Death Eater.”

To his side, Hagrid startled. “H-He followed,  _ You-Know-Who?”  _

“Unofficially,” Harry said, just for the sake of it. “It was more that his  _ family _ were Death Eaters, and he got sort of dragged along with it, but…” He gestured to Draco, suspended in the air, grievously injured. “His actions left a lot of people calling for blood, and some of them managed to actually get it.”

Harry hadn’t had much hope for their entrance going unnoticed, but he still cursed when he heard footsteps rushing down the stairs to meet them on their way up. 

He only forced himself into silence, heart in his throat, when Hagrid greeted the approacher with call of, “Professor Snape!” 

“What’s going on here?” Snape demanded. Harry immediately ducked his head, relying on the low light and Hagrid’s massive form to keep him concealed. “What’s happened?”

“Found these two out in the forest,” Hagrid said. “One’s hurt somethin’ awful, so I was takin’ em to Professor Dumbledore.”

“Escorting two unknown entities directly to the Headmaster?” Snape’s incredulous tone was as grating and condescending as Harry remembered. “Did you stop to think that might be a poor idea, Hagrid?” 

“Well, not complete strangers,” Hagrid said.

Harry’s heart stopped. His memory charms were passable, not perfect, and obliviating Snape would be significantly harder than Hagrid. Not to mention that his knowledge of occlumency was still mostly just trying to focus on a feeling strong enough to overwhelm his thoughts, and not genuinely closing his mind.

He had no choice - he had about ten seconds to pick a story, and stick to it. Draco had given him the beginning, he just had to sell it.

His wand was still in his hand, keeping Draco aloft, and Harry stepped further into the shadows to turn it slightly toward himself, muttering a quick disguise spell. 

He wasn’t good at appearance changing spells. Hermionie could change her whole face, if she really applied herself, but he’d only ever managed one feature at a time, and the most minor of changes.

He focused everything he had into this spell, begging it to work. 

_ Hide her eyes,  _ he told himself.  _ Snape would recognize my mother’s eyes. Something else, anything else, just  _ **_not green!_ **

“He says he’s Harry Potter!”

Snape’s sneer was evident in his voice. “Harry Potter is an  _ infant,  _ Hagrid-...”

“Not the baby,” Harry chimed in, and took a deep breath, stepping out from behind the groundskeeper, into the full light of their two lanterns, letting them both see him clearly for the first time. “His...his uncle. James’ brother.”

Harry watched as Snape sucked in a sharp breath, wide eyes on Harry’s face. They scanned over it, flicking back and forth, before settling on Harry’s eyes.

He seemed alarmed. Harry hoped it was just the familiar face.

“Blimey,” Hagrid muttured. “Didn’t even see the eyes.”

Harry’s stomach churned. “I’ll explain everything to Dumbledore,” he said, speaking primarily to Snape - this was the man he needed to convince, the one who stood between Harry and Dumbledore, between Harry and a way out, both figuratively and literally.  _ “Only  _ to Dumbledore.”

“You are not in a position to make demands, ‘Potter,’” Snape practically spat. “Even if you are who you claim to be, you are an unknown party trespassing on Hogwarts ground, with-...”

“With a wizard who is only still alive because of a very strong stasis spell,” Harry interrupted. “He needs a healer. I’ll do whatever Dumbledore asks of me, submit to any test from him, I just-...” He broke off, chancing a sideways glance at the frozen form of Draco, and breathed out a humiliatingly weak, “I can’t let him die.” 

Snape turned to Draco at last, holding up his lantern to examine him. Either the extensive wounds, the distinctive sharp features, or the evidence of a heavy stasis charm seemed to impress upon him the urgency of the situation, and so he looked back to Harry, lip curled. 

“I will escort you to Dumbledore’s office,” Snape said. “Hagrid may go to wake Madam Pomfrey, and bring her to meet us. Try anything at all, and you will regret it.” 

Harry already regretted a lot of things. Some of those things - his harsh judgement of Snape over the years, despite his true allegiances - were harder to regret in the light of this interaction.

“I won’t try anything,” Harry promised. “I just need to see Dumbledore.” 

Snape pulled out his wand, pointing it at Harry, and prompted, “Then, come with me.”

Harry followed, failing to pretend he didn’t already know which direction he needed to go in, and hoped that this delay wouldn’t weaken Draco’s chances.

When he got back to the Ministry in his time, every arresting officer was going to be hearing  about this,  _ extensively.  _

_...If  _ he got back, anyway.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry stopped in front of the entrance to Dumbledore’s office, staring up at the gargoyle. 

“You seem fairly familiar with the layout of the school, for one who didn’t attend it,” Snape said, stepping up beside him, before offering the gargoyle the password, revealing its stairs. 

“Good instincts,” Harry muttered, stepping up onto the stairs, catching Draco’s feet and tipping him a bit so that he could float safely inside the spiral as well. 

Dumbledore’s office empty when they arrived, but considering the time of night, that was to be expected. Snape kept his eyes and wand on Harry the entire time he crossed the room to knock on a partially concealed door, likely rousing Dumbledore from sleep just beyond it.

The door opened almost immediately, a dressing gown clad Albus Dumbledore emerging from behind it, a kind smile on his face.

Harry felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, as though he’d been hit square in the chest with a jinx, and he let out a breathless huff as he struggled to remain standing through the rush of intermingled grief and joy that came from seeing the man’s face for the first time in years. 

It must have been audible, because immediately, Dumbledore’s eyes snapped to follow Snape’s, locking on Harry.

Shock was a strange look on Dumbledore’s face, Harry having had so long believed the man to know everything, even in light of all the things he knew about the man now. 

“Hagrid found him in the woods, it seems,” Snape said. “He claims to be a  _ Potter.”  _

“I should think it obvious,” Dumbledore said quietly, watching Harry with something unreadable in his eyes. “His resemblance to James is uncanny, certainly.”

“Plenty of potions-...”

“Would have also,” Dumbledore said, patient, but forceful, “changed his  _ eyes.”  _

Harry faltered under their gaze, and found himself looking away, toward the strange items scattered about the room, searching out a place to settle his eyes-

-And catching the reflection of himself in a mirror across the room, blinking at the image inside it.

It was him, most certainly, but his disguise spell had not worked quite as he intended. He’d been aiming roughly for something like blue, the easiest color for green eyes to change to, but his desperation had made the spell unstable, and this was the result: irises so pale a blue they were almost white, lined in a thin ring of darker blue, creating a shocking effect. 

So that was what had Hagrid and Snape stunned in the hall. He’d truly fucked himself, there - the eyes were very clearly unnatural. He had no explanation for them, and he looked back to Dumbledore in defeat, knowing his chances of getting out of this without the truth were slim. 

He had another priority, though, first.

“This is Draco,” Harry said, gesturing to the body floating beside him. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know, I promise, but I need him to be safe. He’ll die if I lift the spell without a healer ready.” 

Dumbledore stepped closer, ignoring Snape’s immediate protests, and approached Draco, looking over him closely.

“He has been beaten rather severely,” Dumbledore observed. “I take it you were not the one responsible?” 

“No,” Harry said. “I wasn’t there. I-....” His voice dropped to a murmur as he followed Dumbledore’s eyes. “I should’ve been, but I wasn’t.”

“And this happened in the forest?” 

Harry shot a sideways glance at Snape.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said, seeming to catch what Harry was after, “If you would leave us-...”

“Headmaster,” Snape protested. “I do not think it wise-...”

_ “Severus.” _

Snape cut off, shot Harry a scowl, and then stalked past them, offering a mutter of “I’ll wait outside, for Madam Pomfrey, then, shall I?” 

Once the door closed behind them, Dumbledore’s eyes fixed firmly upon Harry’s. 

“Now,” he said. “Why were you in the Forbidden Forest, Mister Potter?” 

“I didn’t mean to be,” Harry said. “I was- Draco escaped the A- the people who hurt him, and I followed. I wanted to know what happened, what he was doing, and…” He looked up at the body held in stasis. “And I don’t know, because I had to do this almost immediately after we got here. He was in pretty bad shape.” He shifted, before adding a guilty, “And I was making it worse.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said. “Now, my second inquiry, I believe, will be much more interesting to me. If you are truly a Potter - as I am keen to believe you are - what, then, was your relationship to James Potter?” 

Harry swallowed. “It’s...a long story.” 

Dumbledore watched him, expression unreadable. “Mister Potter,” he said. “If I might suggest a solution...rather than taking the time to find words to tell your story, and then the additional time it would take for me to be convinced of it, I could take the information directly. I am an accomplished Legilimens, if you would submit to it.” 

Harry took a deep breath, steadied himself, and replied, “Do it.”

The rush was much the same as his lessons with Snape, and immediately, Harry found himself rushing through scene after scene of his own memory. They stood in a bathroom, Harry staring in horror at Draco’s fallen, bloodied form, knowing he’d put him there. Then they were in the graveyard in Godric’s Hollow, Harry’s wand pointed at Voldemort, mere moments before their spells would clash. The world warped again just as the spells were cast, and Harry was staring up at Hagrid, being told of his origins for the first time. That image collapsed into the Shrieking Shack, watching Remus and Sirius discuss their history. 

“That is-...”

Harry looked sideways, seeing Dumbledore watching the scene closely, just as it shifted again, scene moving on.

They saw the Department of Mysteries, the prophecy shattering on the ground, words unheard. They saw Sirius topple backward through the Veil. They saw Kreacher weep over Regulus’ locket, then Dumbledore during its retrieval, pleading with Harry not to make him drink any more. 

_ Not this,  _ Harry thought, looking around.  _ He doesn’t need to know this. _

The thought seemed to spur on some defiance of his memory, because the next scene was the astronomy tower, Draco shaking as Snape cast the killing curse that sent the headmaster toppling over the edge. 

The next scenes flashed by quickly - Harry’s mind struggling to hide them with the same urgency that Dumbledore dug through them. His final fight with Voldemort. Draco’s trial. Dudley’s apology. The opening of the Chamber of Secrets. Learning of Horcruxes. Finding the Sorcerer’s Stone. Umbridge’s first detention. Watching Cedric fall. 

Scene after scene, his struggles with Voldemort played out, until finally, they cut off, Harry finding himself breathing heavily in Dumbledore’s office, the headmaster staring at him with something Harry couldn’t quite identify. 

“You are Harry Potter,” Dumbledore said, after a moment. “Aren’t you?”

Harry gave a single, sharp nod. 

“You are not meant to be here,” Dumbledore said, watching him closely. “Travel this far into the past should be impossible. How did you-...?”

“Time turner,” Harry said. “A modified one Draco had gotten his hands on. He wanted to kill Voldemort himself, before anything could happen.” 

“Of course,” Dumbledore murmured. “And where is this time turner now?”

“Smashed,” Harry said. “And neither of us has any idea how it worked, so we can’t make another.”

Dumbledore frowned at him. “You have changed history just by being here,” he said. “There is little we can do about it now - the universe you stand in now is shifted from the one you came from. History diverges on this night. You can’t go back, because the place from which you came is gone.”

“I-..What?” Harry stared at Dumbledore in horror. “You’re saying we’re stuck here? Forever? I have to just...watch all that happen again?”

“Not necessarily.”

Harry watched Dumbledore in confusion, but before he could receive an answer, the door was thrown open again, and Snape, Madam Pomfrey, and Hagrid - crouching down to fit - entered the room. 

“Oh, heavens,” Madam Pomfrey breathed, crossing the room toward Draco. “Lower him to the ground, please. I need to look him over more closely.”

Harry eased Draco onto the floor in silence, watching as she fussed over his wounds.

“I take it you have learned the truth of our visitor?” Snape asked, probably catching the contemplative look on Dumbledore’s face. 

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said. 

“Is he really James’ little brother, then?” Hagrid asked. 

Harry looked to Dumbledore, wide-eyed, wondering what he would say.

Dumbledore met his eyes with a glint in his eye and a small smile on his lips, and answered, “Yes, it would seem that he is.”

“And why,” Snape asked, coldly, “Were we unaware of his existence until now?” 

“He was raised by family,” Dumbledore said, still watching Harry. “Hidden away from all, including James, for his abilities.”

“Abilities?” Snape echoed. Harry almost wanted to do the same, but kept silent, utterly bewildered by Dumbledore’s continuing story. 

“Surely the eyes have given you some hint?” Dumbledore said, entirely nonsensically, before continuing, “It would seem that the man before us, the elder Harry Potter, is a Seer.”

“A Seer!” Hagrid boomed, almost laughing. “Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is,” Dumbledore agreed. “In fact, Severus, if you would fetch Professor Trelawney for me?” 

Harry stared in disbelief, barely registering Snape’s reluctant agreement and subsequent exit from the room. What was Dumbledore up to? What sort of thing was he planning? Where had this story come from? 

Why did he feel like he’d crossed the point of no return?

  
  
  


Sybill had woken in the middle of the night for seemingly no reason, with a terrible sense that something important was happening. She’d fixed herself a cup of tea, gulped it down urgently, and then sat at her table, examining the leaves closely. 

That was a dragon, most certainly, right at the rim of the cup and directly aligned with the handle. Great change, something drastic, in the immediate future. Something was shifting that very night, she was certain. A mountain, there, signifying a powerful player in the game of life, either a vital ally or a deadly enemy. There was an umbrella, showing troubled times, and...was that a worm, or a snake? Neither was pleasant in meaning, but surely-...

A knock on the door interrupted her musing, almost making her shaking hands drop her teacup. 

She set the cup aside and rushed to the door quickly, opening it to gaze wide-eyed at Severus Snape, standing on the other side of it with an expression of clear distaste. 

“Trelawney,” he said. “The headmaster has requested your presence.” 

“Of course,” she said. “I knew he would, of course. I woke some time ago with the knowledge  something crucial had changed in the universe. Tell me, Severus, what-...”

“Just come with me,” Snape interrupted, staring off toward the headmaster’s office.

Sybill had no choice but to rush to follow. “I have read many ill omens this night,” she continued, trying to impress upon him how strongly the universe had been trying to warn her  _ against  _ whatever was happening. Surely he wasn’t writing off her valuable insight into the strange circumstances that dragged her from her slumber in the dead of the night? “Surely, something truly awful-...”

“The headmaster will tell you what he deems it fit for you to know,” Snape said, shortly. “But surely you’re already aware of what is happening, Professor Trelawney.” 

She straightened a bit, proud to have her foresight acknowledged at last. “Of course,” she said. “I-I have seen it, of course I have. I was reading details in the tea leaves just before you arrived to summon me. These signs were grave, Severus. I must advise against whatever plans have been set in motion this night.”

“For once, Professor,” Snape said, “We are in agreement.”

Sybill blinked at him. “Oh dear,” she murmured. “Oh, this is not good at all.”

They made it to the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore’s office and up the stairs quickly, Sybill’s feeling of foreboding growing with every step. 

There was a crack in the second topmost step of Dumbledore’s stairs. She was careful to skip it, lest she invite the omen of an impeded future into her life. 

They entered the office, and Sybill gasped as she took in the sights.

The headmaster was present, of course, but so was Madame Pomfrey, and two strange men - one unconscious on the floor, coated in blood and bruises, and the other standing with his back to her, seemingly fixed on Dumbledore.

“Ah, Sybill,” Dumbledore greeted her, and the man before him straightened a bit, turning to face her himself.

She looked into a vaguely familiar face, saw the pale white eyes of a bloodborn Seer, and shrieked.  

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is SpicyReyes as well if any of you have shit you wanna say or you just wanna (politely) prompt me to update my shit more regularly <3


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